


The Hound's Hot Wife

by mermaidsahoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, One-Shot, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark - Freeform, because why not, it came to me at 5 in the morning, just silliness, olive garden, sandor as a professor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidsahoy/pseuds/mermaidsahoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ex-cop, Sandor now has a job teaching criminology classes at the local University. His scars, roughness, and blunt behavior gain him no favor with the students, who either fear or despise him. But one day Sandor’s hot wife comes to the classroom to visit him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hound's Hot Wife

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot and will remain so. I know I shouldn't be posting anything new since I have other updates to work on, but I thought it would be a good way to get me back in the swing of things. Hope you like it :)

Sandor sighed as he scooped up the papers from his desk and shoved them into a folder. He had one more class to teach that day, and it was the three-hour one: The one he hated the most.

 

Never had he pictured himself as a professor. Sandor had thought he would be a cop until he either died on the job or of old age after retirement. The former seemed more likely. But he had chosen a different occupation once he’d married the little bird, so she never had to worry about whether or not he would come home that night.

 

The girl had lost so much of her family, and Sandor was determined she would not lose him either…even if that meant he now taught a bunch of buggering brats at the Uni.

 

Some of the classes weren’t so bad. Many of the kids were smart and truly interested in the subject. Some showed a grudging respect for him as not only a former cop, but as the Hound. And then there were some who thought they were in for an easy A and tried to make his life hell with their inane questions and incapability to understand the real world.

 

Sandor left his office and headed to the building across the courtyard, his tall and built frame and scowl neatly parting the walkway for him. Once inside the classroom, he logged on to computer and readied the powerpoint and his lecture notes for the day. Students began filing in and taking their seats, whispering and shooting glances of dislike in his direction. Sandor did not care. The dislike was mutual.

 

The first hour and a half was composed of terms and stories of famous serial killers, like Dohmer and Bundy. This class held some of Sandor’s laziest students, and he began to grow frustrated as it was clear that many had either not done their homework from last class, or they were just out to anger him. Sandor had to picture himself writing big fat F’s on their papers to calm down.

 

The fifteen-minute break arrived, and the students returned to talking to each other or leaving for food. Sandor sat down at his desk heavily and checked his phone. There was a text from his little bird.

 

_Hi, baby! I’m going to stop by on your break and_

_bring you coffee and a snack. See you soon! Xoxo_

Sandor could not help the grin that pulled at his mouth. Seeing the little bird, even for a few moments, would infinitely improve his black mood. He glanced at the time and saw that there wasn’t much of the break left, then shrugged. He was the professor; he could make the break longer if he wanted.

 

Most of the students had shuffled back in and were noisily crunching on chips and talking when the door opened and Sandor’s goddess of a wife entered.

 

Sansa wore wearing white skinny jeans with wedges, accentuating her long legs, and a fitted blue blouse that hugged her curves and caused her equally blue eyes to pop against her fair skin and pink cheeks. Her red hair flowed freely in long waves down her shoulders and back.

 

Sansa’s eyes found Sandor and she beamed, crossing the room. The sway of her hips mesmerized him. In her hands she carried a paper bag and two coffees.

 

Sandor rose from his chair, grinning as he watched the vision that moved towards him, when he realized the classroom had gone eerily silent. Glancing at the students, he noticed them all staring, mouths open, at Sansa, as she arrived at his side and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Who is _that_?” one of the boys whispered loudly. Sandor shot them all a wicked smirk before turning his attention to Sansa.

 

“Here’s your coffee, and I got you that ham and cheese sandwich you like,” Sansa chirped happily, completely unaware of the students gawking at them. “Thanks, little bird,” Sandor rumbled, placing a hand on her waist as he steered her farther behind his desk so he could sit. She perched herself on the side and sipped her own coffee while he dug in.

 

The students slowly returned to their previous activities, now whispering: “Is that his wife?”

 

“No, she can’t be. She’s way too hot.”

 

“I wish she was our teacher.”

 

“Maybe he’s not so bad, if he has a wife like that.”

 

“What does she see in him?”

 

“Maybe he’s good in bed.” That last comment sent a group of girls giggling.

 

“No but seriously, who is she?”

 

Sandor rolled his eyes and stood up, regaining attention.

 

“Class, this is my wife, Mrs. Clegane.” The students stared at him, bug-eyed. Sandor could not help smirking.

 

“Hi!” Sansa greeted sweetly, with a little wave. “Hi there,” one of the boys in the back started, then cringed in his chair as Sandor shot him a thunderous look. He decided it was about time to start the class again.

 

“I’m going to finish up. If you want to stay, we can go to Olive Garden after,” he told Sansa. “Ok! Marg dropped me off, so I’m riding home with you anyways. And Olive Garden sounds great, baby.” She slid down from her perch on his desk to sit in his chair, wiggling around to get comfortable. The motion made Sandor’s mouth water and he quickly snapped out of it.

 

The rest of class he lectured, showed a short video about the different drives behind the creation of serial killers, then dismissed the class early. He could have continued, but the prospect of dinner and taking his pretty wife home to bed felt more important.

Through the window in the door, he could see some students lingering in the hall, as if they were hoping to catch another glimpse of Sansa before they left. Snorting, Sandor closed down the overhead and headed back to the desk. Sansa stood, brushing invisible crumbs off her blouse and smiling coyly.

 

“I think you make a very attractive teacher, Professor Clegane,” she purred, twisting a piece of hair around her finger as she watched him gather his papers. Sandor smirked and moved to place his hands on either side of the desk, essentially trapping her.

 

“Is that so?” he growled, dipping his head to breathe in the scent of her hair.

 

“Mhmm,” Sansa giggled. She started winding his tie around her fingers, pulling him closer, and batted her lashes. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.”

 

Sandor groaned and claimed her lips, kissing her hard and not giving a rat’s arse if anyone was watching them through the window.

 

“I’m of a mind to bring you home right now, girl.” Bringing his mouth to her throat, he rasped, “But what about dinner?”

 

Sansa giggled again, running her hands up his chest as she turned her head to whisper in his ear, “To-go.”


End file.
